I’ve always been prone to some freaky ass dreams.
Some great, wonderful ones where the boys of Mumford and Sons live next door and we hang out on the roofs to our apartment thats actually a giant overgrown wonderful garden and they have a cat that needs catsitting from yours truly. Some great, scary ass ones where I’m in some sort of mystical land where it’s perpetually twilight and I’m preggo on some sort of stone bed thing with glowing alien people attending to me in a circle in the middle of some forest with twinkling lights in the trees. Some exciting but also awful ones where I’m a spy but then I watch my enemies kill someone I love and then I get shot but not before some excellent running through the city.
I’ve always been quite good at remembering the dreams and really should write them down so here they shall live. DAILY. See, a way to write daily AND remember my crazy ass dreams. Unless of course I haven’t dreamed that night, which would be strange and usually means I’m ill.
Also, I’ve got these new pyjamas and I swear down, they are giving me some of the strangest dreams EVER. Seriously, I’m convinced it’s the pyjamas. Nothing to do with my mental health. PROMISE.